


You, Me, and all my other Figments

by Shamione



Series: Dramione One Shots [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Bodysharing, Curse Breaker Hermione Granger, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Merpeople, Missing Persons, Mystery, POV Hermione Granger, Rituals, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27661784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamione/pseuds/Shamione
Summary: Hermione sighed dejectedly, glancing over a stone facade that had once plagued her nightmares: Malfoy Manor. A home that, at one point, had been her sole source of anguish. It was now a place that bore a new level of melancholy, though. A place that reminded Hermione Granger that Draco Malfoy was gone.He'd vanished and left no clues toward his whereabouts. Nothing, that is, until the Manor's wards were dropped. A rusty amulet is the single shred of evidence that could shed light on Hermione's once boyfriend.A new scar, an awful date, and an image of the man she'd desperately missed are the only clues to help her find her missing love.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Dramione One Shots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872553
Comments: 20
Kudos: 62
Collections: Completed/Downloaded/Read Works, DFW Tropes Fest: Double Trouble





	You, Me, and all my other Figments

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank [KoraKwidditch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/pseuds/KoraKwidditch) for her work as Alpha on this piece.
> 
> This is very out of my wheelhouse, but my randomly assigned prompt for DFW Tropes Fest - Double Trouble was: **Merpeople and Bodysharing.**
> 
> I do hope you enjoy! No beta.

  


Hermione sighed dejectedly, glancing over a stone facade that had once plagued her nightmares: Malfoy Manor. A home that, at one point, had been her sole source of anguish. That had echoed misplaced and asinine hatred in her soul.

It was now a place that bore a new level of melancholy, though. A place that reminded Hermione Granger that Draco Malfoy was gone.

Nearly three years ago to the day, he had disappeared into less than thin air. No note or phone call. No money withdrawn from his Gringotts vaults or evidence of him in any wizarding or Muggle establishments. Nothing. He'd simply left the Ministry one evening following work and vanished.

Days long searches had turned up nothing, and fewer and fewer people had seemed to care as the months trickled by. Head Auror Robards had sought to close the case on more than one occasion. But Hermione could always rely on Harry and Blaise to help, ensuring that the case remained open while she worked.

Though, try as hard as she might, she couldn't break the wards around Draco's once-home. Sure, she was the best Curse Break at Gringotts, but her blood, sweat, sleepless nights, and countless tears had scarcely helped against centuries of ingrained blood magic.

Four days ago, when she'd felt like completely breaking down, giving up, and sinking into her misery, Harry had come through yet again.

When she'd heard that Kingsley had belatedly approved Harry's plea for permitting Lucius ten minutes of leave from Azkaban, she'd be elated. However, Hermione had nearly socked the old patriarch in his shit-eating face. She'd known he and Draco held no genuine relationship, but his nonchalance over his son's disappearance had left her fists clenched and face snarled. A blow to the nose had done his son heaps of good, so she thought it couldn't have hurt.

Harry had noticed the tension in her jaw and promptly sent her home. Logically she knew that the Aurors had to secure the grounds and investigate for evidence. But every rational thought had an illogical counterpart - Hermione's itching to race inside because she _knew_ Draco would be within.

Her irrationality had been mistaken. Aurors had combed through the estate for days and found nothing. Nothing, that is, until they'd stumbled upon a set of warded doors just this morning - the single almost-clue that could shed light upon Draco's disappearance.

A clue that brought her to the Manor's gravel walkway, hoping whatever laid behind those doors would right-size her life.

Inhaling once more, exhaling the thin layer of nerves occupying her psyche, she passed through the entryway. Flurries of motion echoed off the marble floors as Aurors floated objects out one by one. A flash of raven-colored hair appeared from the parlor before Harry's emerald eyes noticed hers.

"'Mione. Good, you're here."

"Hello, Harry," Hermione acknowledged, advancing further into the foyer to envelope Harry in a hug. "Has the search turned up anything else?"

Harry rocked his head. "Just a bunch of Dark artifacts that we knew we'd find. Nothing of Malfoy yet. But, hopefully, whatever is in that room will give us some clues."

Harry's expression echoed the anguish that continuously hummed in Hermione's gut. She knew Harry missed his Auror partner just as much as she did. They'd grown close over the five years spent trekking through mud-laden fields and hunting down straggling Death Eaters. Hell, Draco had even been both Harry and Blaise's best man at their wedding.

"Come on. It's down here."

Hermione merely nodded, trailing her best mate down the hallways of her once boyfriend's ancestral home to a layer of shimmering magic shielding a set of doors that looked no more sinister than those around them. It took her less than an hour to shatter the wards - a fact everyone labeled suspicious. Had Draco or any Malfoy laid the enchantments, they'd have been more meticulous. Exceedingly more difficult to untangle, if not impossible. That and the magical signature's mismatch to the rest of the Manor's steeped increasing skepticism.

It was a clue, albeit a small one. Someone outside of the Malfoy lineage had warded the doors shut. From the outside, it appeared, and for ostensibly no purpose at all.

The chamber's interior was practically bare, save for a few random furniture pieces covered in white sheets. A desk and chair occupied the room's left, contributing nothing but barren drawers and cushion stuffing. A wing-back and sofa sat nestled before a hearth on the room's right, both containing no additional clues.

It made no logical sense, Hermione mused as she wandered about the room post-Auror sweep. They'd missed something. No one would ward a deserted office merely because they wished to.

Hermione slumped into the now lumpy desk chair, dragging her hands coarsely down her face. Another false hope. Another dead end. Another wave of excitement only bottomed out by a downfall of disappointment. She leaned forward, buried her hands into her palms, and wept.

She allowed herself only a brief moment of despair before she righted, drying her cheeks. Her mind whirled as she glanced about the room with squinted eyes. Why would someone ward these doors that merely hid furniture behind them? Ornate, beautiful furniture, but fruitless furniture nonetheless. Hermione reached out and let her fingers trace the carved, stunning mahogany desk before her. It was an utter shame someone hid - _click_.

Hermione jerked her hand back as the unmistakable noise of gears rotating together filled the room. Her breath caught momentarily, eyes widening as a hidden platform rose from the desk's center, on which sat a rather shabby-looking amulet. Unquestionably not a treasure that merited concealment behind warded doors.

Hermione curiously leaned forward toward the raised platform. Though, the instant her hand enclosed around the amulet, she knew she'd made a mistake.

She'd let emotion overtake her logic.

An utter inferno ripped across her skin, but her hand refused to release its grasp. She bolted upright as an ominous haze grew throughout the room - surging tides of gray oblivion swiftly invading her peripherals. A sudden, sharp pain that was so overpowering her vision nearly blacked out seared against her palm.

She felt herself falling but could do little to stop it. She knew her head thumped against something on the way down, but nothing compared to the agony lashing against the skin impressed upon rusted metal. But as suddenly as it all started, the gray haze vanished, and her fingers relaxed. The amulet slid from her shaking palm and onto the floor with a quiet clink.

"Berrycloth, get the Healer! Now!" Harry's voice thundered, making Hermione wince as he filled her blurry vision. "'Mione, what the hell? Can you hear me? What happened? Why were you screaming?"

She attempted to tell him what happened, but only a groan of anguish left her lips. A moment later, an elderly witch pushed Harry aside and hoisted Hermione from the ground. Concern etched the woman's expression as she floated Hermione onto the sofa's cushions.

"Can you move?" Hermione nodded, shakily lifting her hand to expose her palm, which the witch engulfed with her own, examining it. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"The amulet," Hermione murmured dazedly as the medi-witch slathered her hand in healing paste and a bandage. "I… I touched it."

"Do you know your name and the date?"

"Yes. Yes, I am Hermione Jean Granger. It is… 11 October 2007."

"Excellent," the elderly witch replied. "I am Healer Giselle, and I need to run some scans. Can you stay awake for me?"

"Yes," Hermione affirmed as a wave of the Healer's magic washed over her.

She could feel her mind leisurely restarting, her body cooling, and her muscles slackening. However, a creeping pressure was slowly building in her neck.

"Follow my finger, please," Healer Giselle commanded, leaning over the couch. Hermione's eyes trailed her gloved finger back and forth before the older witch nodded and stood straight. "No cause for concern over a concussion. Your scans show slight inflammation at the base of your skull, likely from hitting your head. A potion should clear that up. I think you're considerably lucky, Ms. Granger."

"Thank you, Healer Giselle," Harry pronounced with relief as he appeared, the chair's white sheet floating behind him, undoubtedly holding the amulet.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, slowly sitting. "I appreciate your help. I… I wasn't thinking."

Healer Giselle nodded, withdrawing two shimmering purple vials and a tin of healing paste from her medical bag. "One vial now and another before bed. You should be right as rain by tomorrow morning. Paste for the next three days for your hand."

"Thank you, again," Hermione echoed.

The Healer packed her things and strode from the room. Hermione stood, but her head throbbed from the sudden rush. She staggered slightly, nearly toppling over before Harry's arm shifted around her waist.

"'Mione, you should go home and rest."

"Harry, this is something!" she retorted too loudly, pulling from his grasp to lean against the arm of the sofa. "I can't leave now. I just found -"

"It might be something, Hermione," Harry cut in with a stern tone he typically reserved for his son James Caius. " _Might_. We don't know what this is or why someone hid it in that desk. We need to have it examined."

"And I'm here to do just that! It is my job to -"

"No, Hermione," Harry stated, cupping her wrist and softly shaking her hand. "You've already hurt yourself because you're not thinking clearly. You need to sleep. Go home and take a nap. Get ready for whatever Ron and Hannah have planned for you tonight."

"But -"

"No buts, young lady!"

"I'm not your child, Harry!' Hermione shouted with a petulant stomp of her foot.

"You're certainly acting like one!" Harry snorted. "No buts, Hermione. Berrycloth, come here." A gangly looking man appeared at Harry's side. "Can you please escort Ms. Granger home and ensure she takes her potion?"

"Yes, sir -"

"Harry! I do not need an escort."

"But you have one," he smirked, a trait he'd learned from Draco. He leaned in and kissed Hermione's forehead as she crossed her arms. "Rest."

* * *

"And she'll have the Caesar Salad with chicken. Thanks."

"That's not -"

"It's good. You'll love it."

Hermione scowled as the waitress shuffled away, but Cormac McLaggen didn't appear to notice. He simply drew his _third_ glass of wine to his lips and inhaled half. How he'd managed almost an entire bottle to himself before they'd even ordered was beyond Hermione.

She'd have to kick Ronald repetitively in both shins for this. She'd been excited to meet him for a carefree dinner of laughs and reminiscing after months of misaligned schedules. Instead, she sat before a boy - because bluntly, he was not a _man_ \- as he jabbered on about himself, his incredible job, and his fantastic hair. How Ronald ever thought McLaggen was a stand-up fellow, Hermione would never understand. By all accounts, the two men should despise one another. Nevertheless, here she sat, enduring a gleaming parade of Cormac's character as he plucked some nondescript chunk of food from his teeth.

And when he startled rambling about Gryffindor Quidditch, Hermione let her mind wander.

She'd rather have remained in bed than come here, especially if she couldn't revisit the Manor. Harry's parting words had been explicit that she shouldn't return. Berrycloth had indeed escorted her home, fetching a glass of water as she drank her potion. And the nap. Merlin, the nap that she'd taken after he'd left. She wasn't sure she'd ever had such a satisfying, refreshing sleep. She'd been exhausted.

Understandable, given the day's events. The week's events. Hell, every gut-churning experience of the last three years. And just when she'd found _something_ , even if it was a reasonably rusted amulet that had tried to kill her - had succeeded in maiming her - Harry had sent her home.

Hermione scoffed, glancing over the bandaged hand fiddling with her untouched glass of wine. The amulet meant something. But how did one go about researching a piece of jewelry that long ago lost its life? Step one was manageable - obtain the necklace from the DMLE evidence vault. Harry would assist with that. Step two was a bit tricker, but what she most looked forward to - finding what curses, if any, were held inside the decaying fragments of metal and stone.

Gray fog and burning every nerve she possessed with invisible fire was not a common trait among jewelry. Perhaps wizarding jewelry, she mused, but that ordinarily meant an object had been tampered with. But who? And why store it in Malfoy Manor behind wards? And what could it have to do with Draco's disappearance?

Hermione scarcely noticed the waitress dump their food off, but she played her attentive part passably. She shifted her unwanted salad around on its plate, occasionally nodding as if she was paying attention. But she wasn't. Her mind was deep in thought elsewhere.

"Honestly, Granger - this wanker is who you choose to move on with?"

"Bloody fuck!" She flinched in fright, flinging a dry piece of chicken and rotted lettuce across the pub.

And as she glanced toward a sound that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight, her heart froze.

Overlooking their table was none other than Draco Malfoy. Hermione couldn't help but gawk, mouth a slave to gravity and tear ducts to the swell of both wrath and genuine elation. Get up. She should get up. But she felt frozen. Merlin, he was just standing there as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't disappeared over three years to randomly materialize in a rundown Muggle pub.

He didn't look a day older than the last time she'd seen him. He still wore his Auror garb like he had that morning when he'd left her flat for work. The red coat was still too snug in the arms, holding a ripped pocket from a dragon claw and several burn marks from wayward curses. The fresh scar over his eye was just as pink as it had been the day before his disappearance. The same stubble lined his jaw, and his dragonhide boots still had the fresh shine of wax.

"Mines?" McLaggen's voice echoed the nickname she'd expressly forbid him from using. "Hello? You alright?"

"Well, answer the tosser," Draco demanded with a cocky countenance. "Don't leave him waiting."

"I'm… I'm… fine," Hermione stammered, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind before anger prevailed, and she threw down her fork, exploding, "Draco, what the hell?! Where have you been? It's been three years!"

"Malfoy? What?" Cormac's annoyed voice boomed as he slammed a hand onto the table, startling Hermione's gaze toward him. "We're here on a bloody date! What are you on about? Why are you talking about bloody Malfoy?"

"Draco! He just waltzed up to our table! You didn't -"

"No, Granger, he didn't," Draco's voice echoed, but when her gaze slammed back toward where he'd stood, the spot was vacant. "Keep up."

"If you didn't want to go on a date -"

"I _didn't_!" Hermione shouted anew, rising and launching her napkin at McLaggen's face. "I'd never _willingly_ go on a date with you! Ronald tricked me here. You're _vile_! And the bloody salad was disgusting!"

Hermione hurriedly glanced about the dirty dining room but spotted no flash of pale blonde hair. He must have stepped outside. _Must_ have. Hermione snatched her bag from the chair and rushed out of the wobbling door. The street wasn't crowded but held no sign of Draco. She ran up the block and back, shouting his name and feverishly searching alleyways to no avail, heart hammering in her chest. How could he just vanish? Again?! He must have Apparated to disappear so quickly.

Harry. She needed Harry. An Auror. He could legally track Apparation. Hermione sprinted down an alleyway, ducking behind a mound of boxes before withdrawing her wand and disappearing with a pop.

"Harry!" she shouted frantically, forcing open the front door of Grimmauld Place. "Harry, where are you?"

"'Mione?" His voice rang from up the stairs before he appeared with a worried expression. "What's wrong?"

"I saw Draco! I saw him!"

His face rose in surprise as Blaise appeared beside him, both hurrying to the bottom of the steps. "What? Where?"

"On my date with McLaggen at some wretched pub in London! Gods, I don't ever remember the name. Shit. Shit!"

"Wait - McLaggen? What -"

"Later, Harry!" Hermione interrupted, flailing her hands to halt his words. "We have to go back. He's out there. I saw him!"

"Relax, Hermione! Tell me where you last saw him."

"He showed up at the side of our table and acted like nothing was wrong!" She ignited, pacing as an outlet for her distress. "Then he walked away! I couldn't find him outside. He must have Apparated. If we go back quickly, maybe we can trace the magic."

Harry sighed, shaking his head to Blaise. The Italian looked at her solemnly, eyes welling with tears before he headed back up the stairs. "Hermione -"

"No!" Hermione screeched. "No, Harry. Don't Hermione me. I saw him!"

"Did you?"

The two words hit her like a sack of bricks, rising tears along her lower eyelids. She'd known it was foolish. Even retelling the story now made it sound inane. But her soul refused to relent. "Of course, I did!"

"Hermione, sit down."

"No! Harry -"

"Hermione! Sit down!" Harry bellowed, making Hermione wince. When she didn't move, he cocked both eyebrows high on his head. She acquiesced begrudgingly and sank onto his sofa, trying not to weep. "You're not thinking clearly."

"I know what I saw!"

He perched before her on the coffee table, drawing her quivering hands into his with an expression softer and more understanding than it should be. "I don't doubt you. But think through what you're saying. You're brighter than this. Malfoy just showed up at some random Muggle pub? On the very night that you happened to be there? On the same day that you touched some Dark relic?"

"I'm not mad. I saw him."

"I'm sure you did, but maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. You know damned well if Malfoy saw you with McLaggen, he'd do more than just stand beside your table."

"He… he spoke to me..."

"'Mione, you need to take the rest of the week to relax," Harry muttered, wiping away a single tear before resting his hand upon her cheek. "You've been non-stop since the day Malfoy disappeared. You need to take some time to forget -"

"I can't forget him, Harry."

"Not forever. But for a few days, at least. Please? For me. Rest for me?"

Hermione sat speechlessly for a few moments, breathing deeply to calm herself. "...Alright."

"Would you like to stay here? I'm sure Blaise and Cai would love to have you while I'm at work."

"No… I think I need some time alone."

Harry didn't put up too much of a fight, but he did hold her until her tears dried. They spent several moments in silence before she tossed down a handful of Floo powder and welcomed the green warmth up her legs.

Exhausted.

That was the only word capable of expressing how utterly rundown Hermione felt. Potion, healing paste, bed - in that order. Hermione sluggishly trudged toward the kitchen, downing the anti-inflammation potion with a quick flick of her wrist. It didn't appear to be working, the dull ache at the base of her skull still a pressing nag.

But it had been less than twenty-four hours. Healing took time—especially severed flesh. Hermione grimaced as she uncoiled the bandage from her hand.

But the wound that fell exposed was almost thoroughly healed, much to her surprise. Balm worked well, but it didn't work _that_ well. Hermione glanced over her hand, taking in the scar for the first time. It seemed intentionally placed, the outline reminiscent of a rune.

But her mind could scarcely focus on the lines. So she opted to slather on the paste, rewrap her hand, and fall into her bed and her emotions.

* * *

Oh, gross.

Hermione scowled at the rickety sign hanging loosely from a battered brick wall - the Muggle pub. This had to be a nightmare. No way would she willingly return here in her waking consciousness. With an exasperated eye-roll, she forced open the shabby wooden door. A grimace spanned her features as she took in the scene. Still dirty and unlit. A faint smell of failure and desperation still crowding the air.

One thing was different, though. One thing, resting at the single table in the center of the unswept floor, had a flash of silvery blonde hair. Had piercing grey eyes that fluttered open to study her figure. One person, one _man_ , had an expression that shifted from sheer repugnance to absolute delight as he stood.

"Granger."

His melodious voice reverberated throughout the pub, and Hermione thought she could feel gooseflesh wash over her skin. Impossible in a dream. She would know - she'd dreamt of him countless times before. But this felt… distinctive. It felt genuine. It felt like her heart was thumping so emphatically that it might succeed in cracking a rib.

"You're here. I've been waiting. I wasn't sure if you'd show."

Just as debonair as his figment always behaved in her dreams. Just as handsome. However, he wore his Auror gear tonight, a vast departure from his combo of worn jeans and snug tee-shirt that exposed the tattoos painting his arms.

The brilliance of his red Auror robes did ripple sadness down her spine. If he was here in her dreams clothed in what he'd worn mere hours beforehand, perhaps her subconscious had deceived her. She'd disassociated at dinner and conjured some random vision of him - no doubt to save herself from attempting murder. Or perhaps, he had truly appeared, and her mind was echoing his image. Either way, this was a nightmare.

He smiled softly, beckoning her further into the pub. She merely huffed and wandered toward the tiny table, eyeing the hand he hoisted with skepticism.

"You know that we don't touch in my dreams."

"Dreams? Granger -"

Hermione merely rocked her head, taking a seat. "I never thought I'd see Draco Malfoy in such a place."

"Because I wouldn't willingly set foot in such an appalling establishment."

"It is quite awful, isn't it?"

Rather than sitting, Draco stepped to the side of her chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nearly as awful as that wanker McLaggen. Honestly, Granger. Your standards have truly lowered."

"They most certainly have not," Hermione scoffed with an exasperated scowl. "Ronald ambushed me with that set-up."

"Remind me to sock Weasley when I get out of here."

"Get out of here?" Hermione sought with mirth, glancing up at him. "What are you talking about?"

He was stone-faced as he plainly uttered, "Your mind. Out of your mind, Granger."

"Me, you, and every other figment here."

Only furrowed brows and a slight cock of his head met her added laughter. He moved slowly but purposefully, sliding her chair out so that he could squat before her.

And the moment his sturdy hands wrapped about one of hers, gently guiding it toward his lips, it felt like genuine magic danced throughout her soul. She could _feel_ him and the distinct warmth of his hands. Could sense the rugged yet comforting passion of his calloused thumb soothing over the back of her hand. The featherlight stroke of his fingers against her palm that she'd craved for years.

The calming waft of his chuckle as surprise etched itself on her countenance, and the spine-tingling tenderness of his lips as they smoothed against her knuckles.

"We…" she swallowed through a lump in her throat so thick it was difficult to breathe. "We… can't… We don't touch in my dreams. This -"

"Isn't a dream," he murmured before guiding her fingers to the side of his face. Instinct took over, shakily sliding her fingers along a jawline that she'd missed so deeply it hurt. He sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering closed as he drifted into her touch. "Perhaps it is for you, but not I. This dreadful restaurant is a surprisingly welcome departure from what that amulet thrust me into."

"Amulet?"

"Yes, some bloody amulet," Draco jeered. "I've been confined inside a cursed hunk of junk for Salazar knows how long!"

Hermione drew her hand back slowly, furrowing her brow as her mind processed Draco's words. "And what...? Now you're trapped inside my mind?"

"As reluctantly as possible," he offered, standing. "I'd much prefer my own body. But yes, it seems I'm here now. How? I'm unsure. I simply waded through memories for what felt like years before being dragged into darkness. Then this place appeared, and I saw you with McLaggen…"

"This is… mad," she laughed abruptly, and Draco's expression rose in disbelief.

"Granger -"

"No. No," Hermione wheezed, incredulous laughter unceasing as she rose from her chair. "This is mad. This entire day has been utterly mad! I get mauled by an amulet, then ambushed into a date with an absolute nincompoop. You show up after three fucking years and then vanish again. And now you're somehow in my mind talking about that damned amulet? I'm in a coma. That's the only logical explanation. Touching that amulet put me in a coma."

He stood calmly, merely observing her pace like she so often to work through her thoughts. When her rantings dwindled to mutters under her breath, he questioned, "You touched the amulet?"

"Touched it? It nearly killed me!"

"Then you have your explanation, Granger."

"That's not an explanation!" She roared, spinning toward him with an expression of pure disbelief. "All that damned amulet and your house gave me was another scar!"

"Like this?" He challenged, hoisting his right palm.

"Wh -" she snapped, but the pink, scarred skin of his hand made the words catch in her throat. "Ye...yes. Yes, like that one."

"I touched an amulet at the Manor, presumably the same one as you. I woke up in a never-ending stream of memories. This symbol was somewhere within each one. It means something."

"I knew it," she breathed with determination. "I knew this wasn't just a scar. It's too -"

"Precise."

"Yes! Exactly."

"Then, you believe me?"

"No, absolutely not," she huffed another laugh. "This is just an elaborate dream, and you're a manifestation of my subconscious helping me sort through clues."

"Granger, you know that's bullshite. This doesn't feel like a dream, does it? You just said so yourself - we've never touched in your dreams."

"It's a dream. Or a coma. You're not here."

His annoyed growl echoed throughout the room before the thumping of his dragonhide boots. Draco crossed the makeshift room in an instant, sliding his hands around her waist. Hermione nearly melted into him; his firm grasp felt like the bliss of sliding into clean sheets after freshly shaving your legs. His lips felt even more gratifying. Soft and absolute. Delicate and pleading. Giving and taking.

He pulled back well before she'd thought fair, but his hands lingered on her hips. Hermione slid her hand against his cheek again, relishing the warmth.

"It's… it's truly you?"

"Yes, Granger, it's me. I'm glad you've finally caught up," he murmured, a smirk she'd long missed working across his face. He set a hand against hers and drew it away. "This -" he started, kissing the edge of her scar. "Can you research this?"

"That was already my plan."

"Of course it was," he chuckled, kissing her palm again.

"What memories?"

"I was never able to choose. Reliving everything was… challenging. But I spent more than my fair share of time with you. France seemed to pop up often."

France. Hermione knew precisely what he meant - their first night together. The amorous evening in the French countryside where they'd drank too much wine and became them. Hermione laughed and shifted her hands around his neck, pushing fully onto her toes to connect their lips once more.

Before she drew back, her eyes slammed wide, and she was once again lying in her bed, tears tumbling into her pillowcase and the unmistakable yet faint warmth of his lips lingering on hers.

* * *

A tingle pricked at the base of Hermione's skull, an itch that suggested Draco was attempting to take control. It had been sweet the first time when she'd been too tired to move from the sofa to her bedroom. Sweet and a little disconcerting. He'd taken over, and it had felt as though she'd floated across her loft as he'd walked her body to bed. But right now, the sensation only made her more annoyed.

"You can't have control right now, Draco," Hermione murmured, tossing yet another useless book atop her coffee table.

"You need to sleep."

"I don't."

"When was the last time you slept a full night?"

"I don't know, Draco," Hermione scoffed, glaring at the blonde man who sat slumped in her armchair. "It doesn't matter. I don't have time to sleep."

"If you're seeing me -"

"I know what seeing you outside of sleep means!"

"Then you're likely not retaining information! Your brain is too fried!"

"Please just shut it!"

Draco scoffed but said nothing else, slumping further into the chair and steepling his fingers before his lips. Not truly. She knew his actions were merely manifestations of her subconscious. He'd started appearing a little less than four weeks prior after a string of days running on too much caffeine and too little rest. And more and more, he wasn't disappearing.

She'd shared everything with Harry the day after her dream, but he hadn't believed her. He said he had, but she knew it wasn't genuine. Hermione couldn't blame him. She'd spoken to a missing man in her dreams and _believed_ what he'd said - it was absurd. Nevertheless, he helped her, granting unlimited access to the amulet for examination. She'd spent days scrutinizing the necklace but turned up no curses, enchantments, or definitive clues.

Harry had tried to convince her to return the tarnished jewel and stop. But she'd pressed on, penning several letters containing identical sketches of her new scar to Runes and Arithmancy Masters around the world. A week had gone by with zero response, so she'd invaded Malfoy Manor to scour through the stacks she'd only ever heard tales of.

 _Nothing_.

Well, frankly, a lot - many things Draco's manifestation had instructed her not to touch on fear of bodily harm. But none of the hundreds of texts she'd skimmed held any resemblances to her scar. And thus far, the Ministry archives had even less to offer. The final three books she'd snuck into her beaded bag sat lifeless on her coffee table, waiting to be searched.

But Hermione knew it was trivial. Countless books, compounding restless nights, and nothing. Nothing. Nothing but broader, darker circles under her eyes, clusters of knots in her hair, an ever-increasing headache, and raw skin on her face from rubbing too harshly to keep herself awake.

A muffled thumping against her windowpane drew Hermione's dazed gaze with a sigh. Harry, again, no doubt. After another lengthy exhalation, she stood gradually, shuffling to her window to allow in Albus, the Potter owl. Instead, a sizeable eagle-like bird bounced through, surprising her. It glared with contempt as it released a small package onto her window-side table. It didn't wait for a response before hopping effortlessly back out of her flat.

Hermione unrolled the scroll, and a determination worked its way over her shoulders as she read.

_Ms. Granger,_

_I trust my note finds you well. You must pardon my delayed response. You see, my husband Macaulay spent many nights searching for your symbol before sharing your letter with me. Had he shared it sooner, I may have been able to save you some pain. But I digress._

_Ms. Granger, the glyph for which you are searching is not human in origin. I suspect you've been unable to find its match in the texts you've explored. The symbol is actually of ancient Mereish descent._

_I've sent along a native Grecian Magizoology text that you may find interesting. It will offer you the basics and includes a map, which I suggest you copy to memory. Take care as it is fragile._

_I deeply discourage this, but should your research require your travel to the colony near Capri, do so wisely. Magic will not get you all the way. You will need a boat. I do recommend you travel on your own should you seek the Merpeople's council. Fewer people offer less of a threat._

_Sirens are beautiful, Ms. Granger, but they are treacherous. They do not take kindly to visitors in their waters - especially not women. Should you see a male, shield your eyes immediately, or you will not make it out alive._

_Thelxiepeia. Remember her name. Show her the symbol._

_And from an old, English Muggle-born witch, I must thank you for everything you've done._

_Marjorie Aetós_  
_Master, Aquatic Magizoology_

Hermione felt herself gawk at the message. Mereish. Mereish! Of course. How hadn't she thought of the possibility before? She'd spent countless hours examining Runes texts but hadn't once considered the potential of a non-human origin. It seemed so obvious now.

"Merpeople! Draco, the symbol is Merish!"

But no response came. Hermione turned to find the sitting room empty, Draco's manifestation gone, and a new sense of vigor slowly creeping into her gut. Her robe and shoes floated from her room with a flick of her wand. Donning them quickly, she cast down a handful of Floo powder and called excitedly for the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

Porto Tragara. A truly enchanting haven on the coast of Capri, a small yet beautiful island just outside of Italy. Hermione only wished she could enjoy the soft glow of the setting sun reflecting off the glass-like sea. She craved to relax at the restaurant across the water, swaying to the music with her boyfriend.

But, no, she couldn't. She was currently charming a meager dinghy latched to a shabby dock's support beam so that it wouldn't sink on her long journey out to sea.

"Granger, you cannot get on that boat."

Hermione growled for the nth time that evening, training her annoyed gaze toward Draco's manifestation. "I can do whatever I please."

"You aren't thinking clearly! You haven't slept in days. You're -"

"Untrue. I slept thirty-four minutes this morning."

"You dozed off on top of a book!"

"And I slept!"

"You cannot get in that boat!" Draco shouted.

Hermione flung her hands into the air in irritation. "Draco, my headaches are growing more serious! You haven't disappeared in a week—even after overpowering me to sleep! Something is wrong, and I don't think we have much time. Those books offered very little. I have -"

"To do this, I know, Granger. But you can't get yourself killed for me!"

"You asked me to help!" Hermione shouted. "And this is how I intend to help. I need to speak to Thelxiepeia. This," she asserted, flailing her palm toward where Draco's figure stood, "means something. And she's the only creature that can help us."

"But must you do this now? It's nearly dusk-"

"I've made a plan. I've studied as many books as possible over the past week. Harry, Blaise, and James are waiting in a hotel in the center of Capri. Draco, we're fixing this tonight."

Hermione felt a familiar and pressing itch at the base of her skull, and she growled, glowering at Draco. She staggered into the boat, flicking her wand to loosen its rope before she snarled, "You can't have control."

"I don't want you to die!"

"Then stop wishing death upon me! We have very few choices left, Draco. My body can't manage two souls for much longer. The boat is enchanted to be unsinkable and to row on its own. We are safe."

His figure faded and reappeared on the wooden bench beside her. "If you die, I'm going to be livid."

"No," she jeered, flicking her wand toward the oars, which lowered into the water, drawing the boat forward. "You'll be dead, too."

Draco's exasperated scoff was the last sound between them as they floated out to sea. The waters were calmer than she'd anticipated, the oars gliding smoothly along the glassy surface with little effort. It was quiet, save for the sloshing of water. Tranquil. Two hours of pacifying silence that nearly made her fall asleep.

Until it felt like she drifted through a wall of magic as an extensive smattering of rocks appeared on the moonlit horizon. The oars halted their movement, the sudden thrust of waves jostling the boat as her charms evaporated. _Magic will not get you all the way_ , Marjorie's message echoed in Hermione's mind as she withdrew her wand. She tried to cast a simple _Lumos_ , but nothing happened.

"Wonderful…" Draco muttered.

Hermione didn't respond beyond a growl. She could understand now how sailors and pirates came upon this Mereish colony and capsized to their demise. There was a faint echo of the sweetest melody she'd ever heard drifting through the air. A sound so enticing it was nearly enough to make her overlook the jagged rocks piercing up from the sea below.

But she'd planned. Hermione withdrew a set of earplugs from her pocket and quickly padded them into her ears. Success. The faint strain of the siren's song snuffed out by a marvel of Muggle ingenuity.

Steadily she pushed forward, navigating her tiny dinghy around jagged outcrops of rocks. She wasn't sure how long she turned right then left, slowed, then rowed rapidly. But the moment something massive thudded against the bottom of her boat, launching her forward to the wooden floor, her heart sank.

"Granger! What the hell is that?"

"I don't know!" Hermione shouted frantically, scrambling against the boat's floor, hunting for flowing water. "It's not leaking. It didn't -"

Another violent blow thumped the boat, making her topple forward and slap her already distressed head against the wooden seat. Ringing erupted in her ears in an instant, causing her to rip the earplugs out for relief. She laid with her arms shielding her head until the boat stopped sloshing. She rose carefully, quizzically examining the seas.

And when her blurry vision settled upon a figure a few meters out, dazed happiness suffocated the ringing in her mind. Floating in the water was a mesmerizing merman. The water on his skin appeared to glitter under the moonlight as he slowly drifted forward. His long hair flowed like silk, a fierce yet welcoming look on his face making it wholly challenging to glance away.

Hermione tried. She knew she had to look away, or she'd risk death. But she couldn't tear her gaze away. He was… enchanting. Captivating. Perhaps the most magnificent creature that Hermione had ever seen. She couldn't think of anything beyond him. Couldn't feel anything other than the desire to touch him. The need to please him.

"Granger!" Draco's faint voice called. "Close your eyes. You've got to close your eyes!"

But she didn't want to. Closing her eyes now meant shutting out the enthralling being nearing her boat. He was coming for her, to her. Hermione smiled as the merman's hands slid up the side of her vessel.

Elation exploded in her gut as her body hit the water. He wanted her to join him in the freezing sea that stabbed at her skin. It was cold but soothing. It was hard to breathe, but who needed air when a god had selected you as a soulmate? She didn't struggle as the creature's smooth claws gripped her ankle and dragged her under. Didn't complain as a tightness worked its way into her lungs.

Only smiled, unmoving, as the merman watched her sink. She could see his tail through the expanding darkness in her peripherals. He was truly remarkable. Remarkable and all hers.

A faint tingle scratched at the base of her skull as the remnants of her vision faded in and out. She wasn't doing it, but her hand with the etched Merish symbol spread wide, jutting out toward the merman as her vision went wholly black.

* * *

" _Breathe. Breathe, Granger. Wake up_."

Her first jagged breath felt like a knife ripping through her lungs. Hermione's body shook as her lips parted, and she ached to retch at the sensation of liquid traveling _up_ her esophagus. Enough fluid, it seemed, that by all accounts she should be dead.

Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. Hermione's body felt stupefied, shivering upon a cold, unyielding surface. She assumed breathing was the worst she'd endure, but the coughing nearly strangled her. She tried to draw her hand toward her mouth but realized quickly they were bound together, as were her feet.

Cracking her eyes took more effort than she'd imagined, but it took no time to process the frightening scene that greeted her. She was lying on her side in the middle of a jagged boulder covered in crushed skulls and bones. She was in the middle of the colony. Undoubtedly. Battered ships lined the colossal cavern walls, dimly lit by bioluminescent algae crawling up the wood and stone. It was cold, not in temperature, but welcome.

And the worst of it all? Draco was no longer beside her.

"Tell me…"

The effortless yet somehow utterly dominant roar ripped through Hermione's spine, shuddering it with genuine fright. She spun toward the sound as swiftly as her bound and distressed figure would allow.

Sitting on a bone-covered boulder at the center of the cavern was unequivocally the most magnificent creature Hermione had ever seen. She appeared as though she'd been pulled from the pages of a Muggle fairytale book - as destructive and vivifying as legends told. Thick, dark hair spanned the entire length of her figure, interwoven with shells and jewels. Moonlight bathed the purple scales on her tail and made her pearlescent skin glitter.

"Thelxiepeia…"

A pair of piercing amethyst eyes glanced over Hermione with a complicated mixture of disdain and intrigue. "Tell me. How you have come by Molpe's amulet?"

"You…" Hermione coughed, lingering water spewing from her lips. With a groan, she questioned, "You can speak above water?"

"I have lived for many centuries," the siren hissed, resentment etching over her already displeased countenance. "Countless souls have visited my caverns. You are not the first. I ask for the _last_ time - how have you come by my sister's amulet?"

"It was hidden in a Manor in England. I believe -"

"England?" How could her voice feel so comforting yet so gruesome? "Death is the sole means to come by our amulets. She would not have traveled to such frigid waters. Tell me what has become my Molpe!"

It wasn't a question; it was a final demand. Hermione shook her head frantically, offering shakily, "I do not know."

Thelxiepeia's face pulled into pure ferocity. Hermione thought she could see the creature's scales vibrate with rage as she exposed her jagged teeth. "You _dare_ to enter my waters with my sister's amulet and no explanation?"

"I have a reason -" Hermione offered loudly, wincing at the pain that raced through her body as she flinched.

"Hope it is enough to save your life, girl."

Thelxiepeia raised a clawed hand toward the sky, and the water around Hermione's boulder shifted. Seconds later, five sirens rose through the break with tridents and clubs aimed unwaveringly. She flinched but tried to conceal her panic and distress.

"Speak, girl!"

"I found your sister's amulet, that's all! I touched it, and," Hermione hesitated her frenzied words, lifting her bound hands to expose her scarred palm, "this. My partner was somehow sucked into the amulet over three years ago, and when I touched it, he -"

"Lives within you now."

"Yes!" Hermione agreed overenthusiastically. "Yes, he's in my mind."

Hermione thought for a moment her incoherent rambling had satisfied the siren's concern. But the insidious, threatening snarl that floated back across the creature's face drove panic deeper into Hermione's gut.

"Then your body shall atone for his indiscretion."

"No, please!" Hermione begged, groaning as she hurriedly scooted further away from the advancing sentinels. "Please! I can help you!"

Thelxiepeia's enraged expression twitched, but she stalled the kill command of her hand's descent. The five mermaids hissed low in disappointment but backed away.

"Draco wouldn't hurt a creature that posed no threat. I'm certain he didn't kill your sister."

"Then, _who_?"

"I don't know, but I will find out! But I need -"

"My assistance."

"Yes," Hermione conceded, attempting to calm herself and clear her mind. "My headaches are growing worse. I can feel my body shutting down. Having two souls in my mind is tearing me apart."

"You assume we could separate you."

"I hope," Hermione responded definitively.

Thelxiepeia clicked her tongue, an awful sound, and the five sentinels dove back into the depths of the sea. She slid from her boulder into the water, floating effortlessly toward Hermione. Her sheer size was intimidated as she forded onto the rock.

"One shouldn't live on hope," the siren began. "I want answers. I will do your ritual, but I expect your return by the snow moon with my sister's murderer."

"Thank you! Than-"

"Lay down," Thelxiepeia hissed, and Hermione flinched, groaning as she laid back. "Aglaopheme, come."

A second, massive siren came ashore, holding a highly familiar amulet with a near-identical twin. Water dripped from her claws as she lowered one onto Hermione's chest and the second onto the stone beside her.

"Our song died today, girl. Do trust I will find you should you break your word."

The two sirens promptly pressed their palms together, giving Hermione no chance to respond. Sharp wailings struck against her eardrums, but the discomfort paled in comparison to the sheer fire that erupted in every one of her nerve-endings. She cried in absolute agony as the amulet on her chest seared through her clothes and into her skin.

She wasn't entirely sure what it felt like to have a soul ripped from your body, but right now, she wished she could die. She could feel her pores throbbing. Her teeth felt like they were splitting from the gums that held them. Her fingernails ached as they clawed at the rock.

It was the most agonizing seconds of her life. Her consciousness flitted between darkness and sight as the amulet beside her burst into radiance. And the last thing Hermione saw before her vision went black was a brilliant flash of light and a familiar, sharp jawline.

* * *

"Draco," Hermione murmured, drawing his hand to her lips to kiss it softly. "Draco, wake up."

He groaned, one eye opening and resealing tightly before the second did the same. Hermione chuckled as his eyes repeated the process, face scrunched in discomfort, until they fluttered open, fully adjusting to the softened light in his St. Mungos room.

Draco looked confused for a moment, but relief washed over his face as his eyes focused upon her. "You're okay…"

Hermione chuckled through the slowly forming tears. He was worried about her. Not himself. Not his body or his mind. Not why he was lying in a hospital bed. _Her_.

"Yes, Draco," Hermione's chuckle happily through her tears. "I'm fine. A scar and a lung infection are all. Because of you. You saved my life."

His hand moved slowly, unsure, shakily ghosting across her cheek. "Is this real?"

"Yes," she murmured. "This is real."

"Then call it even," he said, smirking.

What had once been the absolute worst thing about him - his cockiness - now made her sag in relief. She scooted closer into him on his tiny cot, leaning in to press their lips together. Probably not the smartest action after he'd magically rematerialized just over two weeks ago, slipping into a coma moments later.

But Hermione didn't care. Their shared time over the past months held no candle to the real feel of him. Draco's hand slid into her curls, and Hermione could nearly taste how desperately he'd missed this, as well. She let herself cry at the sweetness of his kiss. There was no use holding in her tears.

When she pulled back, he smiled and opened his arms, inviting her in. Happily, carefully, she snuggled into his side.

"What happened?"

"Later, Draco… We can worry about all of that later."


End file.
